Author JANEY FRASER travels to Roscoff in France on a weekend break with her retired husband and discovers a delightful town with literary connections
Ever since we moved to the South West four years ago, my husband and I have been telling ourselves that we need to explore France.
After all, it’s only an hour’s drive to Plymouth where there are crossings to Santander and Roscoff amongst others.
The funny thing about being a North Londoner by birth, is that it takes the brain a little while to adjust to a new geographical location. Was France really that near?
‘Come on,’ I finally said to my retired husband who is actually much happier staying at home with the dog than exploring the world. ‘Let’s just do it.’
To give my man his due, he’s very good at putting his all into a project once I’ve twisted his arm.
So it was totally thanks to his Internet research that we ended up with a rather good financial deal both on our overnight cabin (on the way out) and the amazing hotel in Roscoff. The journey back is another story which I’ll save for the end….
Now I hadn’t slept in a bunk bed since I was 12 when my younger sister tried to demote me from the upper level. So initially, I wasn’t particularly thrilled when faced with our sleeping accommodation.
Nor was I amused when I found that my husband could have paid extra for a pair of side-by-side beds, instead of bunks. Even worse, he nabbed the ground-floor bed, claiming that his larger frame was safer there.
But to my amazement – after reluctantly clambering up the mini ladder – I was in heaven! I loved it! There was a distinct womb-like feeling, reinforced by the seat belt which went across my tummy as I lay on my back, plus a rather neat ‘bedside table’ in the form of a netted wall bag to take my book.
In fact, I had one of the best sleeps of my life even though it was an October crossing with slightly choppy water.
Roscoff is normally seen as a port where tourists drive off the ferry and head for other parts of Brittany. But as we were only there for a day and a night, we decided to stay put. And I’m so glad we did.
The Hotel Brittany which my husband had so cleverly found, looked more like a castle, overlooking the harbour with stunning views.
The entrance hall was festooned with huge portraits and gilt mirrors with a stunning staircase worthy of an old Hollywood movie. To add icing to the cake, there was also a spa with a pool and very professional beauty rooms.
Our spacious L-shaped bedroom was so comfortable with its extra ‘reading space’ and sofa round the corner, that I could have stayed put – especially as there was a swimming pool just along the corridor. Instead, we put on our waterproofs (did I mention it had begun to drizzle?) and set out to explore.
There’s something very romantic about Saturday breakfast in a French cafe, even when it’s raining. By a happy chance, we found a local dive devoid of tourists.
My husband and I vied each other with our schoolboy/girl French and ordered our pains au chocolat with a certain amount of smugness.
Then we hit the shops! Roscoff is renowned for its seaweed with all the healing properties that go with it.
Without meaning to, I managed to spend nearly £50 at a holistic shop next to our breakfast cafe and emerged with a bag of early Christmas presents ranging from seaweed face masks to pumice stones. I also bought the obligatory string of French onions and a neat little temperature stick to hang in our seaside porch at home.
After that, we thought we ought to do the history bit. I hadn’t realised, until going to Roscoff, that it was the home of Alexander Dumas (of the Three Musketeers fame) for a while. You couldn’t actually go inside his house but we did touch the brickwork with reverence.
We also ogled some of the other beautiful houses with their elaborate metal balconies and arches. Many used to belong to rich merchants when Roscoff was a thriving port in the 19th century.
I was particularly taken by a sign outside one house which declared it to belong to a local girl made good. She started as a courtesan and then ended up marrying a Russian prince before returning to her roots and becoming a nun.
By now, the rain was tipping down with a vengeance so we did what all good English people do. We continued walking and ended up at the end of a jetty with the sea and wind howling around us. Talk about atmospheric!
Then, within minutes, something extraordinary happened. The rain stopped and the sun came out. A quick change back at the hotel (my jeans were like a second skin) and we headed for the botanical gardens.
These are one of Roscoff’s most famous sights, yet incredibly there was hardly anyone there. We had a blissful two hours wandering around, admiring the plants and the views. I particularly loved the philosophical signs in French by each plant: one urged the onlooker to enjoy the fragrance because flowers could smell much better than a fellow human! (At least, I think that’s what it said….)
Of course, France wouldn’t be France without its cuisine and I have to say that although food isn’t high up my agenda, I had two of the best meals in my life in Roscoff. The first was in a seafood restaurant overlooking the harbour where the mussles melted in my mouth, followed by a divinely wicked chocolate pudding.
And the second was dinner in the hotel dining room : the type where ‘amuses bouches’ are de rigour. Each course was served with the sort of commanding detail and clipped-heel waiter attention that the French are so good at. Naturally, I was stuffed from the mussles so I skipped half the courses (unlike my husband) but made up for it with a divine lobster with salad.
I almost wished we could have stayed longer but in a way, the trip was more special because it was short. The transition to the ferry the following morning, was seamless. We simply drove five minutes round the corner where we had a delicious breakfast on our Brittany Ferry. I simply couldn’t fault it. On board, we bumped into a couple whom we’d spotted at our hotel. Like us, they’d retired to the south west but had stayed at the same place 20 years ago. The hotel, they said happily, hadn’t changed.
As this was a morning crossing, my husband hadn’t booked a cabin (although one can do so). Instead, he’d paid extra for a seat in a special ‘quiet room’. Just as well, since the rest of the boat was over-run by heaven knows how many French schoolchildren while their teachers drowned their sorrows at the bar (despite increasingly desperate tannoy commands, pleading for order). Add to this a rather choppy passage and you can see why I didn’t enjoy the journey back as much as the journey out.
Still, we’d definitely go back again. Next time, we’ll be more adventurous and go further into Brittany but spend that first night in what has become one of our favourite hotels.
Details of The Hotel Brittany can be found at www.hotel-brittany.com
Prices vary. We paid £180 for bed and breakfast in October (excluding dinner)
Janey Fraser’s latest novel is HAPPY FAMILIES. Published by Arrow £6.99. It tells the tale of a glamorous granny who unexpectedly inherits a six-year-old granddaughter. www.janeyfraser.co.uk
